


All My Friends Are Turning Green

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, but they arent so it's kind of a mix of that and how caleb deals with them, doesn't strictly follow canon events but they're pretty close, i cant really explain it all that well, if the colors were characters this would be a character study of them, rated T for language but you already knew that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Snapshots in the pattern of Roy G Biv.





	

**Author's Note:**

> #5 and #6, Blue and Indigo respectively, deal with the loss of a grandparent and the grief that follows, so if that's an uncomfortable, or even possibly triggering, topic for you, you might want to skip those. I wasn't exactly sure if I was supposed to tag that, or what the tag for that would be, but I did want to make sure I gave y'all a heads up on that.
> 
> Title from Vance Joy's Riptide

**1\. Red**

Red is overbearing. It’s like that relative you only see once a year who insists on giving you generous hugs that make your head hurt because they smell like they’ve shattered an entire bottle of cheap perfume over their head.

Red doesn’t creep up, doesn’t call in warning or creak a floorboard or slam a door. It’s all of a sudden – one second it’s tinkering at the back of your mind and the next it’s tugged a bag over your head and taken control.

But Red isn’t the worst, Caleb doesn’t think. Sure, sometimes it frightens him, and sometimes it enthralls him to an almost sickening point, but Red is always something he can shake off with distance. Red is all about proximity – a certain radius around the person in question is pure emotion, but once you’re out of that circle, it’s easy to shake off, easy to forget.

And Caleb doesn’t mind forgetting, not really. Sometimes though, he wishes he could remember Red, as long as it meant that he could forget the others. But that’s not how it works, so he deals.

The one thig he doesn’t like about Red, however, is that Red gets him in trouble.

Red is split knuckles and disappointed frowns and hot, suffocating air. Red is disciplinary action and days in detention. Red rolls with the blood that drips off of the rips and tears on his knuckles, the line that dribbles out of his nostril, that trails from his busted and weeping lips onto offset teeth.

Red is being in a room with hundreds of people all talking over one another and losing track of yourself because of it.

But even after all of that, he can’t hate Red. Because Red also understands. That’s not to be misinterpreted as Red equaling understanding, because it doesn’t. Red is far, far from understanding, but it does _understand_. 

Sometimes he can’t pick apart the colors, sometimes they trickle together until their ability of individuality is voided and all that’s left is a muddled mess. He can always pluck out Red, though, always tug it from the wreckage.

Secretly, he hates that, because he thinks that’s a reflection of who he is as a person. He thinks he’s Red and he doesn’t want to be Red.

So he’s trying.

He talks it over with Dr. Bright, she’s about the only person who knows about his fears of being Red. She’s never Red, which these days, that means a lot. You see, Red is also consequences, and consequences aren’t as easily forgotten.

And even though Dr. Bright is never Red, she’s still a little emotionally hard to bear. He’s been seeing her for a while, and with each session it gets easier to manage, of course – their emotions don’t blend, really they layer – but he can’t separate the layers as easily as he’d like. That always leaves him with washed up sadness and determination – what he likes to consider her emotional brand – in his chest, mimicking the encompassing vortex inside of her, only, to a lesser extent.

He doesn’t know as much about her as he’d like, which is mostly because any time he brings him up she tells him that’s not what therapy is for and gently nudges him back to their conversation.

Doesn’t stop him from wondering though. Doesn’t stop him from wishing he could forget her sadness either. 

There was a revelation, after he let himself admit that he’d like to forget some of the other emotions he’d been exposed to – like Dr. Bright’s sadness. He connects with Red because it’s external, while every other color is an internal, Red is affecting outward, hurting only the people around it, never Caleb.

So yeah, maybe that’s why he likes Red, because it can’t hurt him, and somewhere, deep down, he’s afraid of getting hurt any more than he already had been.

 **2\. Orange**

Caleb doesn’t really find Orange much. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t find it vibrantly or on its own much. Sometimes it whispers in pale waves off of his baby sister if she’s got picture day or a quiz or she’s texting her crush. It cultivates during midterms and finals, mixed with dashes of relief because break follows just after. The largest swath of vibrant Orange he’s ever really witnessed is during prom season – but it’s so diluted with excitement and fear and apprehension to merit much of anything in way of him dealing with it.

The day he strikes metaphorical gold in matters of Orange is the first time he ever talks to Adam, a boy that sits in the back of Caleb’s English class. Adam immediately shifts from his every day feel – a whole other topic that Caleb could talk about for a…long while – to Orange. Orange like sirens, Orange like shouts of warning – it slams into Caleb, clinging to his clothes, inside his nostrils, at the back of his throat, wherever it can reach – he’s breathing Orange and he doesn’t know what to do.

He tries to stammer something out, but the color is more vivid than he’s ever seen it, ever felt it, and so the pressure is building in his chest. It’s not his own, he can tell because there’s this kind of smudge around the edges, a specific teal-ish color that’s like a signature of sorts. He tries to push past it, to utter some semblance of a word to this boy who is so incredibly Orange over Caleb’s mere presence, but the colors are tangling, and he can’t remember how to make it all stop-

Adam pushes past him and hustles down the hallway before Caleb can regain himself. The Orange lingers, a flutter in his lungs that plants him firmly on the edge of panic. The teal is washing away, but much slower than what Caleb’s used to.

He pulls out his phone, calls Dr. Bright’s office, absently hopes that she’ll be able to help him make sense of the messy waves he’s dealing with.

“Dr. Bright’s office-“

“Hey, Sarah,” he says, pushing up against the closest wall he can. “Is Dr. Bright free?”

“Sure thing hon’,” and he can hear the smile in her voice. She’s nice, always makes fun small talk with him in the odd instance that he has to wait – her signature is a kind of peachy color, pleasant, he likes it, it’s comforting, kind of like his mom’s.

“Caleb? Are you alright?” 

He doesn’t get emotional readings through the phone, but an echo of the past reverberates around his body once, that particular sadness that’s a signature all on its own, no color needed.

“I talked to him, like you told me to? It was, it was fucking scary. He was so Orange and I couldn’t remember any of our techniques to make it less Orange-“

“Slow down, Caleb, it’s okay. Could you find any of your own emotions?”

“Not- not really, I was so stunned to see all the Orange that it just kind of, overtook me. I could focus enough to separate it. He was _terrified_ – of _me_.”

“From what you’ve told me about Adam and his feelings, I think it might go deeper than that. You aren’t responsible-“

“’ _for everyone else’s emotions_ ’ I know, but I was literally the only person around. Unless he’s scared of the janitor, who, you know, is actually a pretty cool guy.”  
She laughed gently. “I’m glad to see that you have been paying attention.”

Caleb sighed, a chuckle slipping through. “Thanks for taking my call, Dr. Bright.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I was just shaken up by it, I guess? After he left the colors held on longer than they usually do.”

“That’s strange,” she muttered, though mostly to herself. “Do you want to talk about it now, or would you prefer our regular time?”

“Regular time’s fine. Thanks again Dr. Bright.”

**3\. Yellow**

Yellow is, surprisingly, a color that Caleb tries to avoid. It’s nice enough, especially when it’s in its paler shades, but the brighter the Yellow, the harder it is to leave it.

It’s addicting, feeling that whole, like everything has clicked into place and your life couldn’t get any better. Sitting in Dr. Bright’s waiting room for the two weeks it took for the Yellow to wear down from Sarah’s engagement was nearly unbearable. Because he’d catch whispers of it during his sessions to hold him off, but after he left the building entirely he felt tired, he felt empty. It pained him, watering down all of his own emotions because his body had become so _used_ to that damn _feeling_.

It’s a little easier with people he knows, because he knows to expect it, he’s had more experience handling their other emotions, so it’s not as bad. But if Sarah had been some random person on the street, he’d have been down for a lot longer than a couple hours after a session.

But some people, if he knows them, if he likes them, Yellow is kind of nice. He hasn’t figured out all of the rules and regulations of it, but he does know that like, if his mom comes home and is Yellow over a promotion, he’s not gonna have any trouble after that Yellow wears off when he goes to school the next morning. Or, if his sister gets cast in the play she’d auditioned for and comes home with some Tulip Yellow following her around, he’s not going to have to sleep it off.

He thinks it might have to do with the fact that he gets genuinely happy for the person too, so his own emotions help balance everything out, easing him back to normal.  
It turns out, that extended to Adam. Caleb shouldn’t have been surprised at this point, but he was.

Caleb and Adam hadn’t seen each other in a few days – between the former’s football practice, and the latter being out sick with a minor seasonal cold. Caleb had dropped off a small care package, but of the Hayes’, he’d only seen Mrs., Doctor? Doctor Mrs. 

So, when he arrived at school on Monday to find that he was feeling a little more balanced, it was a nice surprise. Though, they didn’t have time to interact until lunch.

He could feel Adam in the crowd before he even saw him – and he was sure it was him because there was that tell-tale comfortable teal marking the edges.

Aside from that first day of Orange, Adam’s emotions never really peaked into the bright colors. Sometimes, they were stunted Grays and murky Blues, then again, some days when, like, they’d eat lunch together or hang out and listen to music or play video games, he would emit a soft, pleased Green – a color Caleb associated more and more with his best friend.

But this, this was startling, it felt like it could knock him off his feet if it wanted to. It was Yellow, everywhere, everything, chirping in a way that Caleb hadn’t ever felt before – especially not from Adam.

He spotted Adam, one ear bud dangling, plucked from his ear forcefully, if how hard it was swinging was any indication. Another thing that was rare in the way of Adam Hayes was genuine grins.

Caleb got smirks, he got small smiles, well, mostly smirks, but this, this was a cheek-achingly genuine grin.

And it made all of the colors tinged with Caleb’s own signature lurch inside of his stomach, they flipped on their heads, and all he could make out clearly anymore was teal and Yellow, Yellow, Yellow.

He approached, and at least tried not to be so obvious when he asked why the emotions he was registering had veered so starkly to the left as opposed to their normal. What he got in response essentially boiled down to, “I missed you, duh.”

Huh.

“Has your football brain finally taken over or do you remember how to sit down?” Adam teased.

Caleb laughed, dropping onto the bench of the concrete table set. 

Adam had a penchant for not using assigned seating – like now, for instance, his legs were pulled up under him in a criss-cross, shoes sliding back and forth across the tabletop idly. When they would hang out at his house, he’d sit on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. Or when they’d go to Caleb’s, he’d prop himself up on the desk, legs going once again.

Caleb squinted against the sun up at Adam, one eye practically closed and the other near it. It was a cute habit, he decided, and then decided not to explore that thought until, well, he wasn’t sure.

He distracted himself with conversation – asking if Adam was feeling better in what must have been a tactful way, because the Yellow around them pulsed a little, before settling back in. Adam finally took notice to the fact that he could barely see enough to look him in the eye, so he shuffled in front of him to block out the sun, which ended up just filtering through his curls. 

Once their conversation died down, Caleb took to observing. Well, observing was a nice way to put it, he kind of zoned out staring up at Adam’s face and happened to start taking into account his best friend’s features. Which then sent him into accounting everything – the way his fingers tapped just shy of on beat with his music, the way his half wired-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, the way his jacket was a little big on him, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, fabric dripping over the sides like a muffin that had overflown.

And then the emotions kind of overtook him – still Yellow, a little pale, kind of in the background, but still there. There were others too, his usuals, which felt like they’d been shoved to the back of a room for now. And then more started popping up – some pale, pale Rose Pink mottled by specks of light Orange, to be exact.

That happened to be what clued Caleb into the fact that he was being spoken to. 

“You’re staring.”

He blinked slowly. “What?”

“I said: you’re staring,” Adam repeated, a weird kind of smile on his lips.

Caleb could feel the heat rising to the back of his neck and ears, and he ducked his head to compensate – which tinted that Pink a little darker, but also let the Orange bleed farther.

“Oh, uh, shit, sorry, guess I zoned out?”

“I figured,” Adam replied, that smile still there, tugging now at dimples Caleb didn’t even know existed.

Adam’s teal, his signature that never really interrupted the inside of his feelings, started to grow. It was still smudged around the rim, but the Green and Blue started to separate from one another, reminding Caleb of peacock feathers as they flourished. He must have reacted too outwardly to the sudden shift in emotion, because quickly the colors were scraped away by a Burnt Orange and steely Gray – colors Caleb hated to see mixed together, especially if they were Adam’s.

“I gotta go,” Adam said suddenly. “I-I forgot I’ve gotta talk to Miss W,” he nodded, seemingly accepting the answer for himself. “I’ll text you later?” he called already jogging off.

Caleb frowned, any trace of Yellow and Orange and Pink and Teal leaving him.

**4\. Green (Part One)**

Caleb never really liked Green. He didn’t hate it or anything, it just wasn’t his favorite. Green was…hard to explain. The hardest to explain, actually. It meant so many things. Colors didn’t have one meaning, they had a ton of different emotions that they could cover, it just depended on the paleness or the darkness or whatever other 100 different factors that had to be accounted for.

Green was newness and life and disgusting and beautiful, all at the same time. Green was the hardest to decipher, the hardest to categorize, and the easiest to fuck up.

But he was growing accustomed to it, little by little each day.

He’d encountered it between his parents, could on any given day; all spiraling stalks mixed with Blush Pinks and soft Yellows.

He’d felt Green all over himself when he got the flu in middle school. Seen it waft off of bullies with cropped hair and Red, Red, Red personalities.

In more recent times, the days he spent with Adam produced Green in lightness, like spring leaves – new and unsure, even though they’d been together for almost a year – yet comfortable. 

It wasn’t the exact color he saw between his parents, a shade or two off, actually – which was…strangely comforting. And it was too light to be the snarl of a bully’s Green, not Gray enough to be the sickness of Flu Green.

It was its own, and when it was present, it dominated everything. Like, if Caleb’s powers were a canvas, then instead of the canvas being white, it would be their green, and all of the other emotions, other colors, would layer over that.

He shook his hands out, trying to focus on that Green, on Adam standing in front of him.

He gave Caleb that smile, that kind of incredulous, kind of goofy smile that made Caleb a little weak, especially when it tugged at the dimples carved deeply into his cheeks.

“You’re staring,” the brunet teased.

Caleb grinned, half at the ground, half at his boyfriend. “Can’t help it.”

And then the smile really tore at Adam’s dimples, pushing them all the way in like popped bubble wrap. He reached for Caleb’s hands, only successfully grabbing hold of his dark brown fingers, but that was plenty. “You gave it to me to wear, so, I wore it.”

“I noticed,” Caleb deadpanned, finally drawing his eyes completely over Adam.

He bore his usual, black jeans, black t-shirt, black and white sneakers that could really use a little TLC. The only thing different, really, was his jacket, a bit big, sleeves up around his elbows, a name and number emblazoned on the back.

Michaels and 8 being the name and number in question.

Green popped like fireworks behind Caleb’s eyes – bright, plant Green. Okay, so yes, he had awkwardly – temporarily – gifted Adam his letterman jacket that very afternoon right before lunch was dismissed. And _yes_ , he had hoped that Adam would, in fact, wear it that day in silent solidarity, since Caleb doubted he’d come to the game. But no, he didn’t actually believe that he would wear it – let alone _show up_.

“I didn’t think you would.”

Adam rolled his eyes softly as he pulled Caleb towards him. Caleb rested his cheek on Adam’s shoulder, the familiar scrub of his jacket against his face not really adding together with the fact that it was _Adam_ wearing it. The boy in question had to stretch a little, but he pressed his nose into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck – mostly because he knew that Caleb was disgustingly ticklish there, and it would make him laugh until he snorted.

“Thanks for coming,” Caleb murmured, soft enough that he didn’t even know it Adam had heard him. It’s one of the rarer moments between them, softness in shades of near-white Pink and looping scrawls of their Green.

“Of course I came, you’ve been working towards this game all year, I didn’t want you to have to go at it alone.”

Caleb couldn’t help but smile. He was being snapped up in Green. Adam came, even though it was probably going to rain, even though he wasn’t that particularly fond of football. He came because Caleb had made the off-handed comment that his family wouldn’t be able to make it, and he wanted him to know that there was someone in the stands for him. 

Caleb was so consumed in Green that he felt delirious, delirious enough to start laughing silently. But then Adam pressed his cold nose harder against his neck, and the laughter escalated to a snort.

Adam pulled back, and Caleb could see the Green in his eyes. It was all around them, but it’s deeper, he thinks, not in pigment but in feeling.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of Adam’s lips because he knew he’d have to gear up soon. But Adam’s arms make their way around his waist, and he turns it into a not-so chaste affair, which Caleb doesn’t actually mind.

“Oh, of course, there’s Michaels!” a familiar voice called behind them. “And surprise, surprise, I found Hayes too!”

It wasn’t malicious, about as far from the end of the spectrum as it can be, really. It’s the playful Yellow that Caleb’s had to get used to, but is coming to terms with, since the team found out. They love to give him hell, sure, but at the end of the day, they’re all good guys.

Caleb groaned under his breath. Adam was already way ahead of him, bracing his elbow against Caleb’s shoulder to send a rather rude – to some circles – hand gesture.

It sounded like the whole team had accrued behind them, because there were louds hoots and hollers of laughter. But Caleb was wrapped in Green and there was an arm around his waist and those dumb glasses he loved digging into the side of his face and he’s just… _content_.

“C’mon, Michaels! We’ve got shit to do!”

“Fuck off, Ty, we’re having a moment, damn!” Caleb shouted back, though there was joke to his tone. He knew it would only buy him a couple seconds, so he pressed a kiss to the dimple closest to him, murmured something quickly in the nearest ear, and jogged off towards the boys – who greeted him with slaps on the back and wide, good-natured grins.

**4 1/2. Green (Part Two)**

Caleb swung his bag over his shoulder, exiting the locker room quickly. Getting to a vehicle with heat was his main priority, considering that he was still a little wet from the shower and it’s colder out now than it had been earlier. He was still buzzing with the team’s adrenaline, a violently colorful Yellow, but he was well equipped to push it away. Only, he wished he hadn’t, because there was a whole lot of Orange catching up with him from his pre-game actions.

He pushed his free hand – the one with the arm not supporting his bag – over his head. With each tree he passed, every step he took, the color built in his chest. Had it been the wrong thing to say, the wrong time to say it, had been his main concerns, and they weren’t going anywhere-

Something slammed into him – no, someone, judging by the fast breath in his ear.

“I love you too, asshole,” Adam laughed into Caleb’s neck. “You ran off before I could tell you.”

And everything reset, only Green beating in Caleb’s chest.

**5\. Blue**

Blue is…hard to explain. Blue can start as any color, many colors, all slowly trickling to the inevitable. Blue is pliable, it’s secretive, it lurks and it pounces in a way not unlike Red.

But Blue hurts, it can hurt him and has before. It slices through his chest, hot and cold at the same time, heavy and feather light.

He could feel the Blue on his dad before he was even completely awake.

“What’s going on?” he slurred, drunk on sleep, and it showing in the grating rasp of his voice.

“It’s,” and that was when he saw the tear tracks under his father’s eyes. “Grandma Michaels. It doesn’t look good, we need to go to her. C’mon. buddy.”

It takes Caleb a minute to process the words, another to digest them. And then he’s slinging the covers back, stuffing his feet into shoes and his arms into jacket sleeves – his mind is whirring, and won’t quiet down.

Alice and his mom were waiting at the front door, the former with thick tears rolling down her cheeks, the latter with silent tears and tight shoulders. He could feel the swell of emotion around him, crashing Blue from Alice, a wavering Gray-Blue from his mother, the odd coil of Red from his father.

He tucks his sister under his arm, and she clings to him, sobbing against the line of his side. Something lumps in his throat, but he has to bite it back, because he can’t afford his own emotions right now, it’d send him completely overboard.

They all pile in the car, Alice abandoning her usual side of the backseat and pushing herself as close as she can to Caleb. He feels himself slowly breaking, because that’s his baby sister, sure they fight like cats and dogs and other things that fight like, a lot, but he loves her, and seeing her like this, seeing her _emotions_ like this, her tears against his pj shirt, it’s too much.

“Liss,” he mumbled, voice already hoarse as he pushed her hair back from her face. That’s all he can say, he doesn’t tell her it’ll be okay, because he can feel, deep in his stomach, that it won’t, and he doesn’t tell her not to worry, because she has the right to. 

He hated feeling like this, powerless even though he had powers He hated the Blue crowding his mind, keeping him from thinking of anything good to say, making him feel like he was suffocating. He hated that he couldn’t feel his own emotions because he was drowning in everyone else’s. 

The drive would be hours, 7 on a good day with minimal traffic. It’d be noon before they got there, and he didn’t know how he’d make it in the stuffy car full of Blue and Gray and Red and Orange. A whole spectrum, ready to pull him under.

He felt jittery, like a taught string about to snap and they’d barely made it on the highway. He couldn’t afford that snap, it’d give way to something stronger than he’d ever really had to deal with, and he wanted to process that safely, dig through his own feelings and ease them, not someone else’s.

His mom was behind the wheel, knowing her husband was too emotional to drive. She gripped the wheel so hard that her knuckles were bloodless, but her feelings, they were steady. The one spot of peace.

His dad had his head in his hands, and Caleb could feel the tears more so than he could see them. He reached forward, put his hand on his dad’s shoulder, squeezed, and let go. Alice had cried herself back to sleep at his side, so it was about all he could offer in the way of comfort without waking her up and without words.

It was about two hours into the ride when he felt like he was going to explode. The Blue was pushing on his chest, taunting him, telling him to give into the feelings that weren’t his own. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air, he needed – something, anything to ground him, to help him deal with everyone else’s shit because he couldn’t fucking do it on his own right now.

He wanted to call Dr. Bright, but he’d have to talk to Sarah, and Dr. Bright would probably have a patient, too many variables that he couldn’t deal with right now.

He clenched his teeth, tears at the corners of his eyes – it’s so overwhelming, to the point where he doesn’t even feel like himself anymore, he feels like everyone _but_ himself.

It was a split second decision to text Adam, he doesn’t even give him a run down of the situation, just punctuates his usual “Hey,” with a soft request: _I need to hear your voice_. It feels stupid, looks even more so once the text is sent, by the needs something, and his powers may not work through the phone, but Adam’s voice had its own calming properties.

A few minutes go by with the text unanswered, and then the screen of his phone lights up. A picture of the caller propped up on his kitchen counter, grinning wildly – emotions all Green, Caleb can remember, and it eased his heart a little.

“Hey,” Caleb said, his voice lowered so as not to disturb his sister, and not to be louder than the oldies rock playing through the radio.

“I’d ask if you’re okay but I don’t think you want to hear that? I mean, you’re probably not, if you’re up and talking this early on a Saturday,” he trailed, a soft sigh passing his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Can you just talk?” Caleb asked, closing his eyes. “I just, I can’t feel anything of my own right now and it’s fucking unbearable, just, please-“ he had to cut himself off.

Adam was silent for a minute. “Did I ever tell you about the dog I had when I was six?"

Caleb expelled a grateful breath. “No.”

“Lucille was the best dog I ever had, I can’t believe I’ve never told you about her.”

“Thank you,” Caleb blurted, before he forgot to say it or lost his nerve. “Thank you for calling and thank you for understanding,” _Thank you for being you_ is what he silently tacked on in his mind.

Softly, “ _Caleb_.”

But words were bubbling up in his chest, pushing just as hard as the colors, and he needed to say them so he could breath, because there was Orange pinpricks peeking through everything and he knew they were his, of course they were his.

“I love you,” Caleb mumbled. “Like, so much it’s stupid,” he added, and he had to tilt his head back and look at the roof of the car because otherwise he’d start crying and not be able to stop and his power would overload and then everyone would be screwed, but he needed to make sure that Adam knew that, he had to know that. “I hope you know that.”

“O-of course I do,” and now, damning, now Adam’s voice was wobbling.

“I, shit, don’t cry, I wasn’t-“

“It’s okay,” a soft laugh. “You just caught me off guard,” then, “You know I love you too, yeah?”

“Tell me about Lucille.”

“Yeah, okay. She was a rescue, but they were pretty sure she was like, part German Shepard. She was still pretty weary of humans, I never really dwelled on it as a kid, but I guess her last home hadn’t been so great? But I was determined for us to become best friends, you should know all about that,” he paused, laughing gently. Caleb let himself settle back against the seat. His power definitely didn’t work through the phone, there was still Blue raining heavily all around him, but he felt a little more like himself, listening to Adam’s voice.

**6\. Indigo (or, Blue Pt. 2)**

Indigo is weird, plain and simple. It’s not quite as harsh as Blue, more of a throb, an ache that you can’t brush off. Passive, rather than active, is the best way Caleb had ever found to explain the particular feeling.

Indigo is time itself stopping, and keeping it still until new feelings bleed in.

The week after that car ride had been hard on Caleb, and he’d been heading towards Indigo whether he realized it or not.

He hadn’t had the proper time to recover, to grieve – their house had been an animated flush of new people and smells and colors – everyone was Blue, all the way from their skin to their bones, and it hurt to be around most of the time. Even alone, up in his room, he couldn’t escape the colors downstairs, couldn’t find enough peace to sift through himself.

People apologized, cuffed him on the shoulder, gave him looks of pity. He was plenty familiar with the pity looks, just not that they were directed at him. Those were the looks you got when your kid was pretty weird, objectively speaking, and had issues with Red. Just another thing to stack on the pile.

Caleb and his grandmother hadn’t just been close, they’d been best friends from the time he could walk. They used to spend weekends together, roaming around town, he learned so much from her, even if he hadn’t realized it. She’d been such a big part of his life, one of his driving forces. After the fight, he’d spent a lot of his time at her house, helping her tend her garden. He liked the work, she liked the help, they both enjoyed the company. 

She’d talk to him, even when he wouldn’t respond, and she’d tell him everything he needed to hear, even if it hurt. He’d wondered if she was like him, an empath, because she always knew what to say, always knew when he needed a call, a day at her house out in the garden.

To him, no matter how old he was, she hung the moon in the sky and fastened the stars into their constellations. Now he missed her so terribly that it left a bitter taste in his mouth, the last feel of Dahlia blooms memories to his fingertips.

His chest heaved, he could feel his emotions brewing low, he had since his dad woke him up that night. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t fucking get to them, not with all the lingering mojo or whatever was left in this house from all of the people that had been through it. He had to push that away and there – there.

He shifted in his spot, feeling a little less restless than he had. He was curled up on the couch, hood over his head, face pressed against the cool, puffy arm of their leather couch. At least his dad and Alice were out for the day, their emotions were the loudest, and finally getting a little reprieve from that was nice.

His mom was in the office, soft Gray curling off her like smoke, but other than that, she was handling her emotions well – which he suspected had something to do with her overhearing him talk to Dr. Bright on the phone most days.

A knock sounded at the door, and he figured it was his dad and Alice – they always forgot their house keys, which made them even remembering the car keys an astounding feat unto itself. So he didn’t move, he’d found a bit of a zone, not calm, and definitely not other-emotion free, but it was…something. It was better.

“Hey, Mrs. Michaels,” Caleb could hear and he stopped shifting, frowned a little. It was soft, not a quirk of a smile, but a still familiar quirk of the lips.

“Hey, hon’,” Caleb can feel his mom’s steady blossoming Violet as it unfurled. “He’s on the couch,” she directed, there’s almost a sigh to her colors as Adam enters the house.

Caleb can hear him pocket his keys, make small talk with Caleb’s mom before she heads back to the office, stumble into the table in the entryway as he slipped his shoes off. It’s regular, familiar, and Caleb can appreciate a little simplicity and predictability at the moment.

“Pull your feet up.” There isn’t even a greeting, the first words Adam has spoken directly to Caleb in days are a soft demand.

Caleb turned his head upward as he readjusted himself into a sitting position. “What are you doing here?”

“A guy can’t even stop in to check on his boyfriend without an interrogation, what a world this is,” Adam teased as he slipped into the middle of the couch.

“You drove all the way over here…to check on me?”

“And bring you the work you’re missing, and to deliver about twenty some messages from your team, and to tell you that Chloe called and she’s worried sick, and my mom needed me to get milk,” he rattled off, pressing his side against Caleb’s.

“Much cooler,” Caleb snorted, resting his head on the newly positioned shoulder to his right.

Adam pressed a kiss through the fabric of the hood onto the crown of his head. “It is,” he assured, finally stopping all of his movements, and just resting his head against Caleb’s.

They stay like that, curled around one another for a while. Caleb had been working on being able to deal with his own emotions in the midst of everyone else’s, but it was slow going, and this blindsided him, so having Adam around to help him balance things out a bit, it wasn’t bad.

He wasn’t sure when he started crying, just knew that he had. He could finally feel the Blue and Gray that had been rattling around behind the Indigo everyone else had left for him to deal with. A flood of Violet swathed him, because he could _feel_ , but that just made the Blue and aching Gray worse because he _could_ feel. Somewhere along the line it turned into heaving sobs, and Adam moved so his forehead was on Caleb’s shoulder and his hand was rubbing wide circles on his back.

He didn’t speak, just kept rubbing while Caleb held his hands tight to his chest and just let the emotion flood him.

“I-I don’t u-understand why it had to b-be _her_ ,” he hurled the words like a football, letting them spiral around the mostly quiet room. “I-I don’t u-under _stand_.”

He felt the words “I’m so sorry,” ghost across his shoulder, over and over and over.

Hours later, the rest of the Michaels family found the boys asleep on the couch, heads on shoulder and hands in hands and faces painted with dried tear tracks.

**7\. Violet**

Violet wasn’t so bad. It was on the rarer side, if anything, so Caleb didn’t spend much time with it. He wasn’t acquainted with it like he was Red and Yellow and Blue.

He tapped the thick envelope against his leg, swallowing back bile and tight, suffocating Orange.

“Caleb, hi!” Chloe’s voice was cheerful, she must be having a good day then.

“Hey, uh, are you at the studio?” he stumbled, he should’ve asked sooner, but he’d started walking and now he was looking at the door-

“Sure am. What’s up?”

“I’m outside.”

There was an audible hesitancy to her pause. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah? I guess, I got this really thick envelope from one of the colleges I applied to, can I come in?”

“What? Yes! Of course!” She said more, or at least, Caleb thought she had, because one second he was outside, and the next second he was in front of her, being pelted with questions and bright Yellow and flushed Pink.

“Have you opened it? No- you haven’t opened it. You can’t open it? Oh, you’re nervous because you think it’s a long shot because it’s – oh, wow that’s a really prestigious college. Wait, you haven’t even told your parents you applied, you haven’t told _Adam either_ , no wonder you’re nervous! But don’t you want your parents to be there when you open it? Oh, you don’t want to get their hopes up unless you’re accepted, and you _were_ gonna go to Adam’s but you came here because…aw, Caleb, that’s really sweet!”

Caleb flushed a pale pink in cheeks, but a queasy Green in emotion. “It’s stupid.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, I’m flattered that you look at me like big sister, it’s really sweet ‘cause I never had any siblings, y’know? Frankly, I’m honored, especially that you want me to be here when you open – you want _me_ to open it? Oh, you really can’t open it – if you’re going to puke, step _away_ from the art projects – but I’d be happy to open it for you.”

Caleb thrusted the envelope at her quickly, if only to get it out of his sweaty palms, which sent a thick wave of Purple onto the current slide of his emotional PowerPoint, before it clicked to a heightened and very loud Orange.

She flipped it over, eyes trailing the lettering. “You weren’t kidding, uh, wow. This place is really nice- sorry, sorry, opening it,” she said her words less speech and more breathy laugh. She tore into it with about as much enthusiasm as he would have if he wasn’t so fucking _Orange._

“Mr. Michaels, we at-“ she began to read, her eyes moving faster than her mouth.

Caleb wasn’t breathing. He actually wasn’t breathing. This is how he’d go, in an art studio that smelled like turpentine, surrounded by half-complete art projects, with a girl who could read minds. Fucking figures.

“Would like to both congratulate and welcome you to- you were accepted! Caleb, did you hear me? You’re in!”

His breath stuttered harder than his words. “I’m what?”

“You’re in!”

Violet stabbed at the bubbles of Orange in his lungs and stomach and mind. It fractured throughout him, a pleasant crash that tickled him all the way to his heart. He released a breath and could feel the colors riding on his breath as they were expelled from his body. “I’m in,” he said, before a laugh bubbled up from throat and broke past his lips.

Chloe reached towards him, her hands latching around his shoulders and tugging him towards her. “I’m so proud of you,” she grinned into his shoulder as her arms encircled him.

His hands shook dangerously as he grabbed her back, resting his chin on her head. When they’d first met, he’d only been a couple inches taller than her, but after a summer that just seemed to consist of his non-stop growing, he’d shot up well past her height, to the point where sometimes had to tilt her head back just a little to see his face completely. 

“Oh my _God_ , Caleb, you can’t tell your mom over the _phone_ ,” Chloe scolded. “And you can’t tell Adam that way either. Sometimes, I wonder if maybe you think things just to stress me out, because it feels like you do,” she laughed, releasing her hold on him and moving back.

“You totally do!” she shouted, looking up at the smirk on his face.

“Do not!”

“Mind reader, remember?”

“Empath, remember? You think it’s hilarious,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Adam has the most pronounced dimples around and you'll take that headcanon from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> I've had this drafted for way too long, but I wanted to offer something during the trying time that is The Hiatus. Tbh I started this because I wanted to explore the color metaphor, and it just kind of...spiraled.


End file.
